There Was a Girl
by Pelahnar
Summary: What if Harry and Hermione had been friends before they went to Hogwarts? No longer a one-shot, due to unexplained popularity. Harry/Hermione. ABANDONED - NOW UP FOR ADOPTION
1. There Was a Girl

There was a girl.

She had long, brown curls that framed her face. She was never without a book. She got all her homework done early, and never once had to ask anyone for help with it.

Once upon a time, when she started school, she would answer the teacher's questions nearly before they were asked. The teacher would smile at her, and say, "That's correct." The girl would get a sticker in the shape of a gold star to put on her notebook. Her notebook was soon almost all golden.

But one day, she stopped talking during class. Her homework still got finished, she still got perfect marks on all her tests, and everyone could tell by looking at her that she longed to raise her hand when the teacher asked a question.

But she didn't do it.

Harry Potter knew why. He'd seen her, crying behind the school. He'd heard his cousin sneering about how she was just an annoying 'know-it-all' and sometimes he watched her nearly running home right after school, to avoid confrontations with the bigger kids.

Harry wished he could help her, but didn't know how. He, too, was bullied by Dudley's gang – there was nothing he could do to stop them. He wasn't nearly as smart as she was, so he half-assumed that if _she_didn't know how to fix the problem, then how could _he_ possibly figure it out?

Still, he watched her in class everyday. She never looked back and he never approached.

And so, their years in primary school passed separately. Studying separately. Bullied separately. Crying separately. As the final year came to an end, Harry couldn't help wishing he'd spoken to her, perhaps become friends with her. But the year ended and he still hadn't done it.

Then – Harry's eleventh birthday. He learned he was a wizard, that he would be going to Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry. In his excitement, he forgot the girl he'd watched for so long. She became just one more of the many students who had made his primary school a horrible place – the place he'd long wanted to leave. Now he was leaving it. Forever.

It was no surprise, then, that then next time he saw this girl, he didn't make the connection. For one thing, she didn't look the same. Yes, the curls were still there, but she was wearing completely different clothing – the robes that Hogwarts students were supposed to wear. And she was talking. He hadn't heard her voice for years, but now she was talking nonstop.

And his new best friend, Ronald Weasley, didn't like the girl, Hermione Granger. He made fun of her during class, he complained about her obsession with rules, he called her a know-it-all…

For the first few months of his time at Hogwarts, Harry went along with Ron. Hermione was snobbish, overbearing, and worst of all, set way too much store in the rulebook.

And then, all at once, they'd become friends. She was the very best friend that anyone could ask for. She was smart and kind, loyal and brave. Not once did he ever think that she could've been the shy ten-year-old from primary school.

Not once, until after they'd left Hogwarts. It was almost a year after the downfall of Voldemort, and it was just the two of them. They were talking about their pre-Hogwarts days, Harry finally able to laugh about the years he'd spent downtrodden by the Dursleys. "I went to the public school in Little Whinging." Harry told Hermione off-handedly. "And believe you me, it was terrible there – Dudley's gang ran the whole school, so there wasn't any chance of making any friends if they didn't like you."

He supposed he had expected some kind of sympathy, but Hermione seemed lost in thought. "I…_I_ went to the public school in Little Whinging." She said slowly. "I never even thought about it – but I was on the wrong side of Dudley's gang too. I've tried to forget about it."

Harry's eyes widened behind his glasses as he remembered the brown-haired girl that he'd watched for all those years. "I think I remember you!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "You were always reading – or studying – but always behind the gym, where they couldn't find you."

Harry Potter and Hermione Granger – two of the famous trio, best friends for years – stared at each other as though they'd never met before. Or rather, as though they had met, but just a very very long time before.

"I always wanted to talk to you – to stop the gang from bullying you, but I never had the courage to do it." Harry told her quietly.

"It was a long time ago." Hermione said, trying to laugh, but it was choked with tears. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does." Harry moved closer and brushed away some of the tears. "I'm sorry."

Hermione smiled. "You're forgiven." She whispered and before Harry knew what was happening, they were kissing.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

**I know the ending was terrible, but I didn't really put much thought into this story anyway, so I don't really care. Just a random idea I had a few years ago and decided to write to day. What if Harry and Hermione had gone to school together before Hogwarts? I don't know. It passed the time.**

**I hope you liked it though! Please review!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Due to the strange, unforeseen popularity of this story, I have decided to continue it. Or rather, change it. The first chapter was written pretty much canon, but this and later chapters will be AU, describing what possibly could have happened if Harry _had_ been brave enough to talk to Hermione before they met on the Hogwarts Express. You can thank the two readers (Trakrat and Primus 2021) who put it on story alert after I'd labeled it a one-shot and the three reviewers who requested more for this extension. And if the extension fails miserably, you are welcome to blame them as well :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Hermione Granger though...no, I don't own her either :( I did change her location...does that count? No, guess not.**

**Chapter 2**

Harry, hiding in the bushes, watched the brown-haired girl, who was herself hiding, behind the school. He'd found lately that he was watching her more and more often. It was peaceful, he realized. And, if she was successfully reading, as she was now, it meant Dudley did not know where she was and this increased Harry's own safety.

But it was March, their final year of primary school. In a few months, it was possible that he would never see her again – if he was going to approach her, it was now or never.

Harry suddenly felt braver than he had in years. "Hey!" he impulsively left his hiding spot and sat down next to her. The girl recoiled slightly, closing her book and hugging it to her chest protectively. Whether the protection was for the book or for herself, Harry couldn't tell.

"I'm Harry Potter." He said, trying to sound friendly.

"Hermione Granger." She whispered, barely audible. "What do you want?"

What _did_ he want? "To be your friend." He answered truthfully. The girl – Hermione Granger – stared at him, obviously startled. "What? Is that so wrong? Just because one group of kids – a small group, at that! – has decided they don't like us, that means we can't be friends with anyone? I think we have as much right to friends as anyone else!"

"We?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Harry nodded. "Dudley's…my cousin. He doesn't like me – at all."

"I'm sorry." Was her automatic response – automatic, but sincere as well. "Dudley's gang – nobody likes to cross them…I just assumed…" she trailed off. "I could use a friend."

"Good. Me too. So, er…friends?" he held out his hand awkwardly.

For the first time since he'd started watching her, Hermione genuinely smiled. "Friends." She took his hand and shook it.

After a pause during which silence reigned, Dudley's unmistakable voice floated around the building. "Oh, Granger! Are you back there?"

"Oh no!" Hermione gasped and both she and Harry jumped to their feet. "This way!" Without letting go of his hand, Hermione ran away from the voice and Harry was dragged along behind her. Unlike Dudley and his friend's, they were small and easily outran the gang.

It was not long before pursuit was abandoned, but Harry and Hermione kept running, laughing at their victory. Eventually, they began to slow. "Where are we?" Harry asked, breathing heavily and looking around curiously.

"This – is my neighborhood." Hermione, too, was out of breath. There's my house, up there. Come on!" she urged him toward a large, gray house up the street.

"Are you sure your parents won't mind?" Harry asked hesitantly, pulling back.

His new friend smiled again. "You've _got_ to be joking – my parents have been begging me to invite some friends over for years." Her smile faltered. "I haven't told them about Dudley, you know. They just think I'm shy…but this will prove otherwise, right?" she brightened once more, and Harry gave in.

They arrived at Hermione's house and it became immediately apparent that she was right. Her father was very excited that his daughter had made a new friend. "Would you like something to eat, Harry? I think we have some sugar-free cookies, if you want any."

"He's a dentist," Hermione explained in a whisper. "Both my parents are – mum's at the office now."

"No, uh…I'm fine," Harry answered somewhat bewildered. He wasn't used to adults being nice to him – or anyone at all being nice to him, and he'd never expected being friends with Hermione would change that.

But it had. Befriending Hermione changed everything, for both of them. They new spent as much time together as possible. They soon found that working as a team turned 'bully-escaping' into a marvelous game, and one that they normally won.

Harry found that he really enjoyed Hermione's company, and according to Mrs. Granger (talking to Mr. Granger while the kids were listening as the keyhole), "Hermione hasn't laughed this much in years. I really like that Potter boy."

The ensuing months were the best Harry had ever had. For the first time in his life he was happy – and doing well in school, thanks to Hermione's help.

Then school ended.

At first, summer was even better than school had been. They were able to spend every waking minute together – the Dursleys didn't really care what Harry did with his time and the Grangers were thrilled that Hermione was spending her time with anyone. During this time, they were able to do whatever they felt like doing. Time passed only too quickly.

Near the end of July, however, things changed. That morning when Harry went over to see her, Hermione didn't seem to be herself. "Is something wrong?" Harry asked as he sat down on her couch. "Are you all right?"

She smiled, a tight, rather forced smile. "Yes – I mean, I'm fine. It's just…" she hesitated. "Where are you going to school next year?"

"Same as you – Stonewall High. And Dudley's going to some private school, Smeltings. Won't it be great – school without Dudley."

"Yes, wonderful," Hermione answered quietly. "Harry, my parents have decided they don't like Stonewall. They want to send me somewhere else. A boarding school in the country."

The words took a few seconds to sink in. "Boarding?" Harry repeated slowly. He was suddenly breathing heavily and he stood up quickly. "But that means – you'll be…leaving."

Hermione nodded. "I leave at the end of August. I'm sorry Harry, I don't want to go…only…" she bit her lip. "Only, I sort of do. It's a special school, you see, it's for –"

Harry cut her off. "It's for geniuses, I suppose!" He knew his anger was irrational, but she had said it! She _wanted_ to leave.

"Genii." Hermione corrected automatically. "No. Please, Harry –"

"Well, have fun there! I'm sure there'll be plenty of kids there that are more worth to be your friend than I am!"

"Harry!" she cried, and Harry thought he could see tears in her eyes, but he ignored them and ran out of the room, out of the house, and back to the Dursleys (mostly because there wasn't really anywhere else for him to go).

Upon arriving, he nearly tripped over the mail that no one had bothered to pick up. Grumbling, he reached down and began looking through it. He frowned, argument with Hermione temporarily forgotten when he found an envelope made of thick, yellowish paper.

"'Mr. H. Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive…'" He began reading the address, but got no further, because Dudley had come over and grabbed the letter from his hands. "Hey!" Harry yelled, trying to get it back.

Dudley, laughing, held it out of reach. "Who's writing to you, huh?" His cousin taunted. "Is it you girlfriend? What's the point, really -?"

"What's that you have there, Dudley?" Mr. Dursley interrupted, appearing over his son's shoulder. He accepted the letter from Dudley and he, too, began reading the address out loud. "Mr. H. Potter…" then her ripped the letter open and read it too, silently.

His eyes widened and he hurried back to the kitchen crying, "P-P-Petunia!"

(Insert here: pgs 36 (beginning where Harry and Dudley fight over the keyhole)-61, chapters 3-4, volume 1 of the Harry Potter series here, along with some random thoughts about Hermione)

**Please review!**

******P.S.: Please tell me that out of the 7500+ visitors (not hits, visitors!) to this story since I posted it, _my father _was not the _only_ one to catch the Chronicles of Narnia reference (he caught it immediately). I had originally expected a whole bunch of people pointing it out, but no one did. Maybe not everyone is as C.S. Lewis obsessed as my family - we have two sets of the Chronicles of Narnia because both my parents owned them before they married, and we frequently quote them without even realizing - but...but...but out of 7,500 visitors...! Rekindle my hope in Narnia, please. I'll give you a hint - it's from 'The Silver Chair'.**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**This story is now my most popular -it has more hits, alerts, and favorites than any of my others, and more reviews than all but two. So - thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, added to story alert, or favorited-way too many to list here! You all rule! Thank you thank you!**

** Note: In answer to a question posed by Tealeavz, the 'insert here' part of the last chapter _was_ intentional. It was supposed to mean that I do not intend to change anything that happened when Harry learned about Hogwarts and went to Diagon Alley, so I don't plan on writing them either. Assume that they still happened.**

Hermione watched Harry leave, silent tears running down her face. She had hoped he'd understand – but how could he, she realized now, when he didn't even know what her new school was and how she could be so excited to go to it.

"Hermione? Honey, what's wrong?" Her mother enter the living room where Hermione was crying.

"Nothing," she tried to turn away, hide the tears, but Mrs. Granger wasn't fooled. She sat down on the couch next to her daughter and put an arm around her. At this, Hermione broke down completely and began sobbing without restraint into her mum's shoulder. "It's Harry. I was trying to tell him about H-Hogwarts, but he…he thought –" She burst into fresh tears.

"But, I thought you weren't supposed to tell anyone about Hogwarts – there's some sort of law against it."

Hermione nodded, sitting up. "The – the International Statute of Secrecy. But I wasn't telling him what it _was_, just that I was going there instead of Stonewall." It was a lie, she knew. She had, upon seeing Harry's reaction to her leaving, almost let it slip that her new school taught magic. "He wouldn't believe me anyway, he'd say I was mad."

"Oh, he wouldn't say that!"

Hermione didn't answer – she didn't trust herself. Harry hadn't called her mad, but he _had_ said that she didn't deserve his friendship. Or that he didn't deserve hers or something like that – at the time, she'd been too upset to listen properly. Whatever he'd said, it wasn't something she liked to hear and she now couldn't decided whether she would've _rather_ been called mad.

"I'm – going up to my room." Hermione said once she calmed down, a few minutes later. "The letter gave directions to – er…Diagon Alley, I think it was called. Where I'm supposed to get school supplies?" Mrs. Granger nodded. "Do you think we could go tomorrow, instead of this afternoon? I don't think I'm up to it today."

"Of course." Mrs. Granger kissed her on her forehead and Hermione went upstairs, where she spent the rest of the day, trying to read and thinking of ways she could make up with Harry. Several times, she contemplated taking Harry to Hogwarts with her, whether he was a wizard or not, but knew that was impossible. Eventually, she fell asleep.

When she woke up the next morning, Hermione couldn't help but feel excited. They were going to Diagon Alley…to get school supplies…for a school of magic…Her grin faded slightly as she remembered Harry, but she determinedly put it back. Harry's ignorance was _not_ going to ruin her day.

"Mum, it's _right there_!" Hermione cried exasperatedly. "Right in front of you!"

Mrs. Granger looked at the bookshop on one side of the Leaky Cauldron and the record store on the other without stopping on the pub in between. "Here – close your eyes." Her mother seemed unconvinced, but she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be led through the door that – according to the letter – would lead them to the shopping district of the Wizarding World.

Once inside, Mrs. Granger opened her eyes and murmured, "Well…it's obvious that _you_ are the witch in the family, not me." Hermione laughed.

They got directions to Diagon Alley from the bartender of the Leaky Cauldron, who introduced himself as Tom. He also exchanged their money – which he called 'Muggle Money'- for a bag of large golden, silver, and bronze coins. "These are called Galleons." He told them, picking up a gold one. "The sickles are silver, and the Knuts are bronze. Seventeen Sickles in a Galleon and 29 Knuts in a Sickle."

"What a strange system!" Hermione cried. "I suppose I get used to it, but those numbers – it's as though someone pulled them out of a hat!"

After that, they went on to Diagon Alley itself. Hermione marveled at all the different shops and stores. Normally, she wasn't one who liked to shop very much, but this! _Anyone_ would want to shop here. She excitedly bought her potion supplies, her school robes and her wand.

But she saved the best for last. Finally, after she'd gotten everything else on the list, Hermione walked slowly – almost reverently – toward the bookstore, Flourish and Blotts.

"Mum, I've changed my mind about going to Hogwarts." Hermione said seriously, as she opened the front door. "I want to live here this school year."

She spent a full five minutes staring at the books that filled the store – she couldn't seem to make herself touch them, worried that if she did, they might melt away.

"Can I help you find something?" The manager had noticed her.

"Umm…well – how much would it cost to buy everything?"

"What?"

Hermione snapped out of her reverie. "Oh! I mean, I need…" she hurriedly checked her book-list and read off their names.

"Ah, a new Hogwarts student. I see." He soon helped her find what she needed, along with a (large) number of books that weren't on the list.

Hermione probably would've stayed in the bookstore until…well, until she'd died of thirst, but Mrs. Granger forced her to leave before then. "Come on, honey – if we want to get home before dark, we have to get on the road soon."

"Who says we want to get home before dark?" Hermione grumbled, as she said good-bye to the manager. He seemed quite sad to see her go.

Back in the car, on their way home, Hermione remembered Harry again. She hugged a book called _Hogwarts: A History_ to her chest and wished that Harry could've come to Diagon Alley with her, gotten his own wand and robes, seen that magnificent bookstore. She smiled, remembering Flourish and Blotts. "Mum..." Hermione murmured. "I think I'm going to like Hogwarts – if it's anything like Diagon Alley, anyway." She laughed quietly. "I just wish Harry could come too."

Hermione spent the next week reading – for that week, she was never without a book on magic. Harry had stopped coming to her house, and she read partly to try and forget that. The other reason she read was because the books were even more fascinating than she'd expected them to be – and her expectations had been high.

_Hogwarts, A History_ was quickly becoming her favorite book _ever_ – her new school had a long and interesting history, starting over a thousand years before. Her schoolbooks, too, captivated her interest and she had read them – _all_ of them – all the way through by the end of the week.

Finally, she turned to modern history – it would be necessary, she decided, to know something about the world she was about to enter. Hermione smiled and picked up a book called _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. _

"It is widely known that the Darkest wizard of our time was the man who christened himself 'Lord Voldemort' and his name will not be written here again." Read the introduction. "You-Know-Who, as he is commonly referred to, was the individual who began the Wizarding War, in the Dark Days not so long ago. He was defeated only ten years ago, when he tried and failed to kill one-year-old Harry Potter. This downfall, along with a number of possible reasons for it, will be discussed at length in this book."

Hermione nearly dropped the book, then quickly reread the last sentence out loud. "'Failed to kill one-year-old Harry Potter.' That's not possible." Her first thought was that it had to be another Harry Potter. Surely if her best friend had defeated a Dark wizard, he would've told her so! She hurriedly flipped through the book and it soon fell open at a picture. A hand-drawn picture of a baby with a thin, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks once more to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or added this to story alert! Love you all (in a nonawkward way...) :)**

Hermione stared at the picture for a few long seconds-then she dropped the book in shock. Harry's lightning scar had always interested her. He said it was from the car accident that killed his parents, according to his Aunt Petunia. His Aunt Petunia, Hermione slowly realized, could be wrong…or even lying on purpose.

Suddenly, she scooped up the book again, leapt to her feet and, after a few hasty words of explanation to her mother, set off towards Harry's house at a run. Was it possible? _Could_ Harry be the baby in that picture? In that case, he would be going to Hogwarts with her and their argument had been for nothing. Excitement began to course through her as she ran up Privet Drive.

She slowed, however, as she reached Number 4. There was a reason Harry always came over to her house instead of the other way around, and that reason could be summarized in one word: Dudley. Now that she had a partner in hiding, Dudley wasn't nearly as scary as he used to be, but Hermione still avoided contact whenever possible.

Now was not one of those times that could be avoided. She _had_ to talk to Harry and waiting was out of the question – Harry hadn't visited her in a week; if he really were a wizard, there was no need to prolong their time apart. Still, Hermione had to force herself to walk up the driveway, and working the knocker took even more effort. She managed it, but barely.

Nothing.

No one answered the door. She tried again, knocking slightly harder (her first try _had_ been rather weak). Nothing. "Come on Harry, it's me." She muttered. Abandoning all fear, Hermione knocked emphatically. To no effect.

"You can knock however long you like, missy, no one's going to answer you."

Hermione turned around slowly and saw a little old woman standing at the end of the drive. One of her legs was in a cast, and she was leaning heavily on a pair of crutches. Hermione got the idea that the woman found her situation funny. "Why not?" Hermione asked a little stiffly – it wasn't as though she'd never been laughed at. She had been, of course. Just not usually by people older than she was.

"They aren't there." The woman answered stoutly. "They left, sometime last week." That would, at least, explain Harry's total lack of communication. But Hermione had been sure the Dursleys weren't planning a vacation this summer. Something about business trouble at Grunnings. "Very hurried affair it was." The woman continued. "Packed barely anything and I actually saw the father yelling at his boy for wasting time packing things that weren't necessary."

"Which boy?" Hermione asked, curious.

"The big one, of course. Dudley. I wouldn't call Harry 'his' boy, even he does live there." Hermione was finding this story stranger by the second. _Uncle Vernon_ had yelled at _Dudley_? According to Harry, Dudley was the most spoiled child on the planet. He didn't get disciplined for _anything_.

She paused, then carefully posed another question. "You…know Harry?"

"Oh, yes. Nice boy, though I don't suppose he likes me very much. He's never _seemed_ very interested in me, anyway, when he's come to visit." The woman sighed heavily. "But then, I've never really put forth an effort. Dumbledore said not to." She almost seemed to be talking to herself.

Hermione opened her mouth, then closed it again. She repeated the gesture a few times, trying to process this speech. None of it had made much sense – none of it, except one word. _Dumbledore_. Not a word she would've responded to a week before, but now… "Dumbledore? _Albus_ Dumbledore?" she asked, trying to sound innocent.

The woman jerked, swaying on her crutches. "What did you say?"

"I asked," Hermione answered, knowing she was taking a risk. "Whether you were talking about Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster at Hogwarts." If this woman was a witch, she would know what Hermione was talking about. If she wasn't, and she had been talking about a different Dumbledore (or had said something else completely), then she would call her mad for spouting nonsense words and probably leave.

But the woman didn't call her mad, and she didn't leave. Instead, she said hesitantly, "How do you know about Dumbledore, girl?"

"Just from reading about him. I'm – starting at Hogwarts this year, you see, and I thought I should have some background on its Headmaster. My name's Hermione Granger."

The woman studied her critically. "Arabella Figg. I've never heard of you."

"I'm a friend of Harry's." Hermione now knew who this woman was – Harry had, on occasion, mentioned her. She was the old cat lady that Harry was sent to stay with during Dudley's birthday outings. Spending time with her was boring to the point of insanity. But if she knew Dumbledore, that changed things. "Are you…a…" Hermione glanced around to make sure the street was deserted. "A…"

"A witch?" Mrs. Figg supplied. Hermione swallowed, and nodded. "No."

"No?"

"I'm a squib." Hermione blinked, willing the definition of this word to come to her, but it didn't. Hadn't she read the word _anywhere_ during the past week? If she had, she couldn't remember it. Seeing her confusion, Mrs. Figg continued. "A _squib_, girl. Surely you know what a squib is?"

Hermione shook her head, almost ashamedly. "Kids these days." Mrs. Figg snorted angrily to herself. "So ignorant they don't even realize it."

"Hey!" Hermione protested. "My parents aren't magical – I only learned I was accepted to Hogwarts a week ago! I've been reading up on it, I just haven't happened to read anything about squibs."

"Oh, I see." Mrs. Figg said. "You're a Muggle-born."

This time the term sparked some recognition – it had been mentioned more than once in _Hogwarts: A History_ – and Hermione nodded, vigorously. "I suppose you can be excused then. A squib is the opposite of a Muggle-born. Magical parents, but with no magic themselves. I'm not legally licensed to carry a wand – not that I could use it if I had one."

Hermione quickly filed this knew definition away, for later use if necessary.

"Why – why didn't Dumbledore want you to make Harry's visits interesting?" Hemione asked hesitantly, changing the subject.

Mrs. Figg gave a harsh laugh. "I'm not even supposed to tell Harry that. Why would I tell you? I don't even know you."

"Why couldn't you tell Harry?"

The woman stared at her, apparently amazed. "_Why_ do you ask so many questions? That's really none of your business."

"Sorry," Hermione apologized quickly. She was about to go on when Mrs. Figg cut her off.

"Do you even know who Harry Potter is?" she asked abruptly.

Hermione was a little taken aback. "Of course! He's my best friend. He grew up here, with his mother's family and…" she trailed off. This was not the answer Mrs. Figg expected. "That…Dark Wizard…" she began, more slowly. "Umm…Vol-"

"DON'T! Don't say the name girl! Don't you know _anything_?"

Hermione winced at the outburst, then continued. "You-Know-Who, then." Mrs. Figg nodded her approval. "You-Know-Who tried to – to kill Harry, ten years ago. But he couldn't." she paused, then her curiosity go the better of her. "Why couldn't he?"

Mrs. Figg laughed again, in her harsh bark. "If we knew that, child, we'd know a lot more about the nature of magic than we do now…"

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	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anything to do with the series. Hermione's accidental magic hair story was written by evil-sami-poo, in the story 'Hogwart's Secrets Hermione's Hair.' I have borrowed it with permission. **

**Thanks again to all who reviewed, favorited, and put on alert!**

When Harry returned to the Dursleys after his excursion into the magical world, he couldn't help but feel excited. Only one more month and he would be free forever! Ok, that was an exaggeration. But for the entire school year, anyway.

He suddenly remembered Hermione.

Groaning quietly, he sat down on the bed in his room. Hermione. He remembered how mad he'd been when she said she wanted to go to her boarding school. And now he was overjoyed to go to his – and would've been, even if Hermione weren't already leaving. "I'm being hypocritical." He told the snowy owl that Hagrid had bought him. She hooted softly.

Hypocrisy aside, he decided, he had to apologize to her. He got up and went downstairs. Normally, Uncle Vernon would've asked where he was going (exactly _why_ he asked, Harry wasn't sure) and Dudley would've tried to stop him. Today, as he entered the living room, Uncle Vernon pretended not to see him at all and Dudley ran from the room screaming.

Harry allowed himself a quiet chuckle as he left the house. He'd spent most of his life running from Dudley – and now Dudley was running from him. He appreciated the irony.

His smile had faded by the time he arrived at the Grangers'. What if Hermione didn't forgive him? What if whatever he'd said (he no longer remembered) what if it had really offended her? What if…? Harry pressed the doorbell.

"Harry! Haven't seen you for awhile!" He was greeted enthusiastically by Mr. Granger.

"Yeah, hi Mr. Granger. Is Hermione home?" Harry half hoped the answer would be no.

"Oh yes. Please come in." Mr. Granger brought him into their living room asking. "So Hermione says you were on vacation. How was it?"

_Vacation? Why would she say that?_ "Er…it was great."

Mr. Granger went to get Hermione before Harry could protest. Now that he was here, he was no longer positive he'd be able to say what he wanted to. And the 'what if' questions wouldn't stop running through his head over and over.

"Hey, Harry." Hermione walked down the stairs from her room slowly. Predictably, she was carrying a book.

"Hi." Harry paused. "Uh…look, Hermione, I'm sorry about what I said before." This was easier than he'd expected. It helped that Hermione seemed to be in a good mood. "If you like this other school, then you have every right to want to go there." Hermione smiled. "But there's still a month before school starts, so…I think…if you like…er…" He trailed off. "I'm sorry."

Hermione nodded slowly. "Harry…" she said. "Where were you, this last week?"

"Umm…vacation. It was very last-minute." Harry answered, confused at the abrupt change of subject.

"Vacation. Yes, I heard it was rushed. I heard that Mr. Dursley actually yelled at Dudley for trying to pack something unnecessary."

"What – how d'you know that –?"

Hermione broke in, changing the subject again. "Where are you going to school this year?"

"Ho – I mean, Stonewall. You know that."

"Stonewall? Are you sure?" she asked, eyebrows raised with interest. "Are you quite positive that you're not going to Hogwarts?" She paused to let this sentence sink in. "That's what it sounded like you were going to say."

For almost a whole minute, Harry could not seem to get any intelligible sound out. "Wh – bu – you…How do you know about Hogwarts?"

Hermione grinned and held out the book she was carrying. Harry took it, but nearly immediately dropped it. _Hogwarts: A History_. "Where did you get this?"

"Diagon Alley." Harry almost missed her next words, he was so shocked to hear her mention the place he had gone to get school supplies. "In Flourish and Blotts. Have you been there yet? I don't suppose the Dursleys would take you, though. It's amazing Harry! There are books all the way to the ceiling on every magical subject imaginable! And I think –"

"Hermione." Harry interrupted, knowing she could go on like that for hours if allowed. "_Why_ did you go to Diagon Alley? And how did you get in?"

"Though the Leaky Cauldron, of course." She said flippantly. "Like it said to in the letter. I suppose you _did_ get one?"

"One?"

"A letter." Hermione explained patiently. "Saying you'd been accepted to Hogwarts and giving a list of supplies and things. You must have gotten one."

Harry snorted. "No, I mean, I didn't get _one. _I got hundreds, Hermione." Her eyes widened, shocked. "It was the Dursleys, they wouldn't let me read it. But, I mean…you…"

"I'm a witch, Harry." She smiled. "I'm a witch and you're a wizard, and we're both going to Hogwarts! Isn't it wonderful?" Apparently, he still looked confused, because she sighed and said. "You know the last time you were here, and I said I was going to boarding school? Well, the night before that, Professor McGonagall – she's the Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts – she came and gave me the letter. Good thing she did too, or else we probably wouldn't have believed it."

"Oh," Harry said. "I guess…that's great. But, how did you know about me? Isn't there some 'Secret Statute' or something? We're not supposed to tell anyone that's not related to us?"

"Yes, the International Statute of Secrecy." Hermione nodded. "I couldn't tell you last time, because I didn't know you were a wizard. But after I went to Flourish and Blotts…" she gave a small laugh. "As I'm sure you can guess, I got several other books for extra reading. And any that had anything to do with modern history and were published within the last ten years mentioned you."

"What? Why?" As soon as he said it, Harry knew the answer. "Oh. Voldemort, right. Hagrid told me about him. And…me."

"Isn't it scary?" Hermione whispered, glancing at Harry's scar. "And you were only a baby…" Harry shivered, remembering Hagrid's story.

"Yeah. Let's talk about something else, shall we?"

Hermione nodded grimly. "Who's Hagrid?"

Harry grinned – now _that_ was something he wanted to talk about. Realizing they were both still standing, Harry and Hermione quickly settled themselves on couches and Harry launched into the story of the last week.

"I thought of you in Flourish and Blotts." Harry laughed as he told her about his time in the bookstore. "I couldn't help thinking you'd love it there – and you'd already been to it!"

When his story was finished, Hermione sat back on her couch. "Why was your story so much more interesting than mine? McGonagall came, explained, left. We went to Diagon Alley, bought supplies, came back…" she glared at him for a few seconds before giving up and smiling again. "What accidental magic have you done?"

Harry thought about it. "Mostly stuff to get away from Dudley – like, I accidentally flew onto the kitchen roof a couple years ago…"

"That was _you_?" gasped Hermione. "I heard about that. I wondered why anyone would want to climb that building. Most of mine was protecting my books – or occasionally fixing them if they got ruined somehow. But there was one time…" she turned a little pink. "Don't laugh."

"I won't!" Harry said defensively.

"It was my first accidental magic…I'd just seen a movie – a Shirley Temple movie. If you've never seen a Shirley Temple movie –"

"No, I haven't."

"Shirley Temple has these adorable curls. After seeing the movie, I wanted curls like hers, but my hair couldn't seem to hold the shape. My mom finally gave up, and I cried myself to sleep – when I woke up, my hair was…" she yanked on one frizzy lock. "Like this. A bit overkill, I think. But it won't go back straight."

"Oh. That's…very sad." Harry was having trouble keeping his promise of no laughter. Hermione throw a pillow at him.

"You said you wouldn't laugh! I think I deserve an embarrassing hair story now!" she cried.

"You mean other tan today? An every other day of my life?"

"I mean one to do with magic." Hermione replied.

Harry sighed. "Well, I have a magic hair story, but it's not exactly embarrassing – more embarrassment preventing really. My aunt was trying to get control of my hair and shaved almost all of it off. All except the fringe."

Hermione gasped at the description, clapping her hands to her mouth in horror. "That must've looked _terrible_!"

"It did. But it was back the next morning, so no one saw except the Dursleys."

"Not fair." Hermione tried her best to look angry. She soon gave up and they both burst into uncontrollable laughter.

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.**

**A/N: Thanks again to everyone who reviewed, added to story alert or favorited. Oh, and loretta 537: I went to your profile and read the list of 'Things in Harry Potter that Made me Think.' I was able to answer some of them, but only afterwards realized that you didn't have PMing enabled. If you want to read them, my answers are on my profile.**

"Come on, Hermione." Harry implored. "Let's just try it."

"No! It's not legal, Harry. We can't break the law." Hermione told him sternly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's _not_ illegal. Underage magic –"

"Is illegal!"

"No, it's not!" Harry protested. "Not before we've even started school. Right now, we can't control it so they don't care what we do. It's not like I'm suggesting we use wands or anything. After all, we've done wandless spells before, and nothing happened to us."

She still seemed unsure. "We didn't even know about our power then, though." She said doubtfully. "Hang on…" Hermione grabbed a nearby book and began flipping through it. Completely at a loss, Harry could do nothing but watch her.

"Aha!" she cried triumphantly. "Underage magic…performed under full knowledge…by witch or wizard who has not reached their seventeenth year…not during the school year…" she muttered as she read. "Oh, wait. 'Note: if said underage witch or wizard has not yet begun schooling, any magic performed will not be considered, as long as it does not require Ministry involvement to reverse.'"

"See? We haven't been to school. It's legal."

Hermione glared at him and shut the book with a snap. "OK, I concede. But we have to be careful." She sat up, now looking excited. She did enjoy experimentation, and that was what they were planning on doing – trying to see what all they could do without the use of a wand. "What should we try first?"

"Well…" Harry hesitated. "I told you what happened on Dudley's birthday?" Hermione nodded, grimacing. That incident had caused them to see each other only at school for a month because Harry had been grounded for so long. It was only later that they realized he had been doing accidental magic. "I made the glass disappear – and I talked to a snake."

"And it talked back." Hermione added. "That's the important part. Anyone can talk _to_ an animal."

"Yeah. I want to know if that was an isolated incident. Or if I can inherently talk to animals." He paused. "You haven't read anything about that sort of thing, have you?"

"Not talking to animals in general, but snakes…that sounds familiar. Oh, of course! Slytherin!" Seeing Harry's blank expression, she went on. "Salazar Slytherin. One of the four founders of Hogwarts – he could talk to snakes. Parseltongue, I think it was called."

"So you think I can speak…Parseltongue?"

She seemed to be far away. "Maybe…but to know for sure…" she hesitated, then called, "Butterscotch!"

A cat squeezed through the front door, which was partly open. Harry could tell at once why it was named Butterscotch – its fur was bright yellow. It leapt gracefully onto the coffee table that sat between Harry and Hermione and turned toward the girl expectantly.

Hermione cooed and began to scratch Butterscotch's ears. "I didn't know you had a cat." Harry said.

"I don't." Hermione answered. "This is the neighbor's, but she likes me and will come – usually – when I call her. I _wish_ I had one." Hermione busily petted the cat for a few more seconds as it purred contentedly. "Well, are you going to try and talk to her or not?"

"Oh! Right. Um…" Harry stared at the cat. What sort of things did you _say_ to a feline? "How are you?" he asked finally glancing up as Hermione giggled. "Er…It's a nice day." The cat gave him a bland stare and Hermione giggled harder. Feeling rather foolish, Harry tried again, more bluntly. "Can you talk? Or at least, can I talk to you?"

The cat did not reply.

"OK, I guess that rules out you being able to talk to _all _animals." Hermione sighed. "Unless you want to keep trying. She might just be finicky – cats are like that, you know."

Harry shook his head. "So now what?" Harry asked. "We find a snake and try it?"

Hermione scoffed. "Do _you_ know where to find a live snake to talk to? Preferably privately, so people don't see us communicating with reptiles?"

"I'm sure there are plenty in the park – grass snakes and so on, not poisonous ones."

Nodding, Herimone stood up, Harry quickly following suit. "Where are you two off to?" Mrs. Granger asked, having peaked into the room to see them on their feet.

"We're just going to the park to see if we can find any snakes for Harry to talk to." She answered truthfully, with an angelic smile on her face.

Mrs. Granger seemed somewhat disturbed by this plan. "Doesn't that sound a little dangerous to you?"

"Oh, don't worry." Hermione added quickly. "The snakes at the park aren't venemous, and anyway, if Harry is a Parselmouth – if he can talk to snakes – he also holds some degree of control over them as well. If he's not, it's unlikely we'll even find any, since snakes are naturally shy around humans."

Her mother's fears appeared to be a little abated, and she said, "Ok…be careful."

"We will." Hermione told her mother cheerfully and they left the house in the direction of the park.

"Is it true?" Harry asked as they left. "That Parselmouths have control over snakes as well as being able to talke to them?"

"Of course! I wouldn't lie to my mum!" Hermione cried. "It was said that Slytherin used to keep lots of snakes – poisonous ones like asps and adders – and never got bit once." Her voice was eerie as she finished her explanation, and Harry shivered at the thought of having pet snakes, especially dangerous ones. "It's all in _Hogwarts: A History_." She added.

"Maybe I should read that book. You keep quoting it an it would make things easier if we'd both read it."

Hermione beamed and replied that he most definitely _should_, but wasn't as thrilled when he pointed out that he'd need to borrow it from her, as he didn't own a copy. "But that's literally my favorite book ever!" she protested, horrified at the very idea of giving it up, even temporarily. "I can't just give it to you!"

"It'd only be a loan. If you really want me to read it…"

They'd arrived at their destination. Slowly, the two friends entered the park. "What now?" Harry asked.

Hermione pondered this question. "You could try calling them." She suggested.

"Ok." Feeling even more foolish than when he'd been talking to Butterscotch (at least then he'd be able to_ see_ what he was trying to talk to…), Harry began, "Snakes? Are – are there any snakes here? Please show yourselves."

Hermione snorted quietly. "Just like you, to be polite to wildlife." She muttered.

Harry threw her a glare and continued to try and coax the snakes out of their hiding places, at the same time walking forward slowly. Nothing remarkable happened until they actually _saw_ a snake – a dead one. Hermione quickly murmured that usually you couldn't even expect to see a live snake during the daytime – they were naturally night-hunters.

But when Harry saw it, he knew something had changed in his beckoning. For one thing, Hermione drew back, hands over her mouth. "What? What happened?" Harry asked. She only shook her head and pointed at the bushes behind him.

They were alive with snakes. Shiny scales seemed to cover everything, and the branches swayed under their newly acquired weight of long, sinewy bodies. Harry glanced at Hermione, then turned to the snakes.

"Hello." Harry said to the snakes hesitantly. "Er…"

The bushes shook harder and began to hiss quietly. "Greetingssss, Harry Potter."

Surprised, Harry asked. "You know me?"

Snakely laughter emanated from the bushes and one particularly large, grayish, grass snake slithered out of them and into plain sight. "Of courssse, Harry Potter. That ssscar on your forehead marksss you clearly. You are the one that the Dark Lord failed to kill. Even among usss ssnakess, your ssstory isss told often." It hissed to him.

"Do – do you know why?" Harry stammered. It was one thing to think about being able to talk to snakes, and another to actually have a snake come out and start talking to him.

There was some more hissing from the bushes. Harry couldn't make out any words, but the tone seemed speculative. The spokessnake finally spoke. "No. We do not know. Much myssstery ssurounded you that day…" The snake paused. "Why did you come here?" It asked.

"I wanted to know if I could talk to you." Harry answered truthfully. "What about that – do you know why I can speak Parseltongue?"

More speculative hisses. "Good quesstion, Harry Potter." The spokessnake slithered farther forward and twisted itself around Harry's ankles a few times. Hermione jumped back with a muffled shriek, but Harry had almost forgotten about her and he knew the snake was not planning on hurting him. "You do not ssspeak our tongue naturally, like mossst wizardssss." The snake murmured quietly. "Ssstrange…"

The conversation lasted only a few more minutes. The snakes seemed to like him, but they allowed him to leave when he promised to return. After they'd retreated to their hiding places, he turned to Hermione. "What do you think?"

She seemed confused. "I think…that you speak Parseltongue. What else am I supposed to think? _I_ couldn't understand what they said – I couldn't even understand was _you_ were saying."

"You couldn't understand what _I_ was saying? But I was talking in…"

"Parseltongue, Harry. You were talking in Parseltongue – snake language. That's the point of being able to talk to snakes. What did they say?"

Harry recounted the conversation. Hermione was interested to learn that the snakes didn't think his Parseltongue ability was inborn. She was horrified that he'd promised to come again. "You're not taking me next time." She said, shuddering. "It's so creepy, listening to you hiss like that."

Harry laughed, but secretly he was looking forward to meeting the snakes again.

**Please review!**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, story alerted, and favorited, as always.**

The next month almost too quickly for Harry. Yes, he was looking forward to starting school, but it was nice to be able to do whatever he wanted, without even having to worry about Dudley's gang. _Hogwarts: A History_, when he was able to pry it away from Hermione, he found to be as fascinating as she'd said it was.

He went to the park nearly every day to talk to the snakes. Hermione stayed at her house during these excursions – to read her books, he suspected. It was obvious that she was learning more about the Wizarding World all the time. In particular, she wanted to know more about Parseltongue. Harry learned all he could from the snakes, though she was disappointed with the amount of information she was able to retain.

"If you'd come with me, I could translate everything and you could ask questions and –" But whenever he suggested this, Hermione would shudder and turn away.

She was able to do some of her own research on the subject, but of course her resources with limited to their school books and relatively few extras she'd bought at Flourish and Blotts. She complained about this daily. "I can't wait to get to Hogwarts – I've read that the library there has _thousands _of books!" she would say. At this point, her eyes would unfocus dreamily.

Parseltongue was, however, only the first – if most intriguing of their magical experiments. "I'm curious," Hermione said a few days after their first encounter with the snakes. "Do you think we can try to take control of some our other bits of 'accidental' magic?"

Harry was skeptical. "If everyone could do that, what would be the point of having wands?"

She smiled a little condescendingly and immediately launched into a speech about the benefits of wands. How they with made of special combinations of wood and some sort of magical substance like unicorn hair or phoenix feather. This concentrated and enhanced the power into specific spells. "The more powerful the witch or wizard, the more control they can gain over wandless magic, but no one's able to cast just _anything_ without the aid of a wand." She told him. "The magic we'll do is pretty general. I'm interested in your kitchen adventure – how exactly did you get on the roof?"

Harry paused. "I really have no idea. I was just running from Dudley and suddenly found myself there."

"Hmm…maybe we should get Dudley to chase us and try to do that again…" Hermione mused.

Shaking his head, Harry replied. "He wouldn't do it. He's terrified of me now." They both laughed a little at that.

"Ok, just try to describe the experience to me. We can try to replicate it with being chased."

"But I _did_ describe it! One minute I was on the ground, the next I was on the roof! That's literally all there was to it!"

"Hmm…" Hermione said again, thinking hard. "I think we can rule out flying then. Maybe a short-distance form of Apparation." Predictably, she grabbed a nearby book and began flipping through it.

"A form of what now?"

"Apparation. It's a way of traveling – just disappear from one spot and appear in another. Now," her voice became brisk. "Did you feel any tightness on your chest?"

"No…"

"Any pressure at all? Any trouble breathing?"

"No."

"What about darkness? Did it go black at any point?"

"No!"

She glared at him. "You're giving all the wrong answers." Harry winced apologetically. "Those are the signs of Apparation. I'll keep looking." She buried herself back in the book and Harry stole away to go talk to the snakes some more.

Their progress at learning to control accidental magic was slow. Despite Hermione's efforts, she was never able to figure out what Harry had done that day while running from his cousin. Hermione soon learned how to fix things, eventually being able to get rid of the tape on Harry's glasses. By the end of the month, Harry had successfully managed to call a ball of light into his palm twice in a row and they both could consistently get objects – small ones anyway – to hover, occasionally being able to move them around as well.

"It's too bad we don't have more time to work on this." Hermione lamented towards the end of August. "We will keep trying, right? Even after we go to Hogwarts?" Her eyes widened beseechingly.

"Yeah, of course!"

"Good." Hermione smiled. "From what I've read, most people rely on their wands way too much for my liking. What if your wand gets lost or broken? _Then _where will you be?" She grumbled to the imaginary, wand-dependent wizards. Brightening, she added. "It should be easier at the school anyway – all that ambient magic in the air. Oh! Are you going to talk to Silverscales today?" Silverscales was the spokessnake's name. Over the past few weeks, he and Harry had become friends.

Harry nodded in response to her question. "Can you ask him something for me?"

"Sure."

"Does speaking Parseltongue have any connection – even a remote one – to the Dark Arts?" Seeing Harry's startled expression, she quickly went on. "_I_ don't think it does, but everything thing I read on it seems to say so. Salazar Slytherin –"

"He was a Dark wizard? But I thought he was one of the founders of Hogwarts. Though, I guess Hagrid _did_ say all the Dark wizards and witches came from his house."

"He wasn't Dark as such," Hermione answered. "At least, not that anyone knows of – he lived a thousand years ago, after all. But he had this thing about Pureblood superiority. People with non-magic parents, like me and your mum he considered…beneath him."

"That's not right. But what does it have to do with talking to snakes?"

"Nothing. It's just that talking to snakes and Pureblood superiority were the two things he was best known for – the very fact that his House's symbol is a serpent is because he was a Parselmouth. All the other mentions of Parseltongue that I've found – and I haven't found much – they were all linked to Dark wizards too.

"Yeah, I'll definitely ask Silverscales." Harry said, disturbed at this very idea. "I think I'll go now."

"The Dark Artsss?" Silverscales hissed when Harry posed the question. "Sspeaking to sserpentss hass nothing to do with Dark magic." He spat angrily "Esspecially for you, Harry Potter, for whom the tongue iss not natural."

Greatly relieved, Harry then told the snakes (for there were, as always, about thirty listening from the bushes) that he would be leaving in only a few days' time.

Whatever reaction he had expected, it was not the one he got. The snakes nearly knocked him over as the hurtled from their perches in the bushes to twine themselves around his arms and legs instead. Their hisses couldn't be distinguished into words, but they sounded angry and desperate for him to stay.

"I _have_ to go!" Harry cried, back up – to no avail, as the snakes we're still clinging to this body. "I'm going to Hogwarts – to school. I'll be back next summer!"

This appeased them somewhat – after all, even they realized that their friend had to be educated – but it was still a disgruntled lot of snakes that returned to their branches. Silverscales, Harry realized, had not taken part in the desperate lunge. "Immature sssnaklingsss!" he hissed at them harshly. "I am sssorry, Harry Potter, for the misssconduct of my fellowss."

"That's – that's ok," Harry stammered, for once glad that Hermione had not come. She probably would've screamed, thinking they were attacking him. "Umm…may I ask why you don't seem as upset as they are?"

"Of coursse you may. Ssso polite. And I will ansswer. I'm coming with you."

"Coming – with me? To Hogwarts?"

"Yess and wherever else you may go later." The other snakes rustled jealously.

"I'm not sure they'd like that – I'm allowed to bring a cat, a toad, or an owl and –"

"They needn't know." Silverscales interrupted. "I'll stay and hunt outside. Bessidess, I'm going asss a companion, not a pet."

"Of course!" Harry said quickly, realizing that might've been offensive. "That's not what I meant, I just…" He trailed off, wondering if the school would make the distinction between companion and pet. It hardly mattered, he decided, since it appeared Silverscales had made up his mind and was going to come with or without the school's permission. He briefly pictured Hermione's reaction to this and smiled. "Ok, well, we leave September 1."

"I'll be there…" Silverscales almost seemed to melt away, though Harry knew he'd just returned to the bushes.

The day before they were to leave, Harry asked Uncle Vernon if he could stay at Hermione's that night. He received a grunt in return, which he took to mean 'yes.' "And is it ok if I go to the train station with her tomorrow?" Grunt. Assuming another affirmative, Harry said, mock cheerfully. "Great. This is the last you'll see of me then. This year, anyway. Goodbye."

Over the past month, Harry's school supplies had slowly migrated over to the Grangers' anyway, so it only took one, very light trip to bring the rest. He found an extremely hyper Hermione there.

"We're going, Harry!" she cried when she saw him. "We're actually going! Can you believe it?"

Harry grinned, finding her mood to be infectious. They had a hard time getting sleep that night and both woke up at five the next morning, unable to stay in bed any longer.

"Calm down!" A rather groggy Mrs. Granger told her daughter, as Hermione seemed to be too excited to sit long enough to eat breakfast. Once breakfast was finally eaten, they set of for King's Cross station, Hermione bouncing in her seat the whole way.

"Only you, Hermione…" Harry chuckled.

"Only me what?"

"Only you could be quite this enthused to go to school, albeit a school of magic." He answered. In truth, however, he was having a hard time containing his own excitement.

They arrived at the station at about 10:30. "Hermione," Harry asked, examining his ticket. "Do you also find it strange that we're leaving from a fractional platform?"

"No." Was her blunt answer as she pushed her trunk past him eagerly.

"Professor McGonagall explained it." Mrs. Granger told him as they hurried after Hermione's retreating figure. "They don't want to non-magic community to notice all the kids leaving every year, so they built their platform 9 3/4 in between the visible ones 9 and 10. Or something like that - I don't pretend to understand it." she added quickly.

"Mum!" Hermione had reached the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 and was now waiting impatiently for the rest of her party to join her. Harry and Mrs. Granger sped up.

"We're coming!" her mother called back.

"Ok," Hermione said as they arrived. " Professor McGonagall said to walk straight at...uh...that...very solid-looking...brick wall." She stared at the wall uncertainly. "I had hoped there would be _something_ different about it, you know, something that only we could see..." Harry also looked at the wall in front of them and found that he had to agree with her - it looked exactly like all the other barriers around them. And completely solid at that.

"So...ladies first?"

"You're so chivalrous." Hermione rolled her eyes and, without a moment's hesitation, she walked straight toward and then through the wall. Harry glanced around nervously, but no one else seemed to have noticed.

"At least we know it works..." Harry muttered, and followed his friend to platform 9 and 3/4.

**Please review!**


	8. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is not actually an update. This is me randomly deciding that the chapter 8 should be merged into the chapter 9 that I posted about a week ago. This decision was spurred both by the extra short-ness of chapter 8 and by a reviewer that told me (quiet correctly) that it was rather pointless. I hope this fixed both problems. Other than that and a few typo fixes, this is exactly the same as before.**

**Speaking of typos, I've been thinking about getting a beta-reader. Does anyone know any good ones? The next chapter should be finished in the next couple days, by the way - if I find one, anyway.**

**Chapter 8**

Hermione gasped as she caught her first glimpse of Platform 9 3/4. This sight stopped her in her tracks and she stood, staring, with her mouth open.

Unfortunately, she was unable to keep up this position for long, because only a few seconds later Harry came through the barrier as well. He very nearly ran right into her. Not, apparently, seeing the wonderful sight in front of them, Harry dragged her out of the way as Mrs. Granger followed, then they both stopped to stare once more.

The Platform was slightly hazy with steam from the train in front of them. And _what_ a train it was! The magnificent locomotive - bright red - glinted in the sunlight that streamed through the skylights high above them. Squinting through the steam, Hermione was able to make out the Hogwarts coat of arms on the train's side, but she wondered at the color. Wasn't scarlet the color of one of the school's Houses? Gryffindor?

Ignoring the strange coloring, Hermione took in the rest of the station. It was mostly empty, she noticed, but then, the _had_ arrived pretty early. Due to her own uncontainable excitement, she knew. "Come on, Harry! We'll be able to chose our seats!" Once they'd found a compartment they liked and gotten their trunks into it - not without a little help from their levitation practice - they returned to Mrs. Granger.

"Good-bye darling." Her mother said tearfully. "You have to write often!" She hugged her daughter, then Harry. Hermione giggled at his startled expression.

"Umm...thanks for everything this summer, Mrs. Granger..." he stammered - Hermione couldn't help but giggle harder.

"Well, _you_ certainly seem to be in a good mood." Harry grumbled as they went back to their compartment a few minutes later.

"Of course! We're going to Hogwarts!" she replied happily and began watching the Platform out their window slowly fill up with other students, along with their various owls, cats, and...well, actually, she didn't see any toads. Not that they'd be as visible, she reasoned.

"Yeah..." Harry answered slightly wistfully, looking out the window as well. Hermione saw a rather large family of redheads appear, but before she could point them out, the door to their compartment opened.

A boy their age was standing in the doorway. Hermione noticed immediately that he was crying. "Are you all right?" she cried, leaping to her feet.

"Y-yes...well, no. H-have you seen a toad?" He stammered nervously. Hermione glanced at Harry and they both shook their heads. Toads would be hard to spot in the now crowded Platform, as Hermione had already noted. "I've lost him!" The boy cried tearfully. "We've only just got here and he's gone!"

"It's all right, we'll find him. Won't we, Harry?" Hermione put a consoling hand on the boy's shoulder and Harry stood up as well, ready to join them on this hunt. This movement drew Neville's attention to him. "Are you - Harry Potter?" He asked tentatively, having heard Hermione call him by name and, now, seen the scar that was barely hidden by hair.

Harry nodded, then added quickly, "And this is Hermione Granger."

"I'm...Neville Longbottom." The boy replied a little shyly, only glancing back at Hermione. "Did -" Hermione was sure Neville was going to ask something about Voldemort and wanted to stop him, but he cut himself off before she could think of a way to do it. "Is that a snake?"

Both Harry and Hermione looked around and sure enough, Silversnake's head was poking out of a hole in Harry's trunk. As that trunk was almost brand new, Hermione was slightly suspicious about how the hole had gotten there, but she let it go, smiling at the snake. "Yes." she answered Neville's question, as Harry appeared to be conversing quietly with Silverscales and she wanted to cover up the faint hissing. "That's Silverscales - Harry's familiar."

"Will he eat Trevor? My toad." He added quickly, seeing the confusion on Hermione's face.

"Well..." she knew that toads were a big part of grass snakes' diet, so she wasn't sure how to answer.

"No," Harry had finished his conversation. "But he can help find...Trevor, if you like."

Neville nodded once, and they set off to find the runaway, leaving their things to keep their seats. It hardly mattered that the compartment was saved, however, because their search only lasted a few minutes. Whether because of a special talent or just experience from hunting toads, Silverscales was able to point them directly toward Trevor.

After profuse thanks from Neville, they returned to the compartment and Hermione offered one of the seats to their new friend. He accepted it graciously. "So," Hermione asked when they were settled. "How did you get Trevor?"

"Uncle Alfie gave him to me, after I got my Hogwarts letter - he'd been afraid I didn't have any magic, see, and he was really proud of me." Neville replied.

"He thought you were a squib?" Hermione asked, eager to use the word again. "But didn't you do any accidental magic? Harry and I did - plenty of it."

"What's a squib?" asked Harry. Hermione realized she'd forgotten to tell him about her encounter with Mrs. Figg in her excitement at seeing him again, the wandless magic practice, and everything else that had happened over the past month. This was not the time to remedy that, she decided.

Neville glanced at Harry, but seemed more comfortable talking to Hermione. "Squib. Yeah - I didn't do anything special for a long time. A _really_ long time."

Before he could elaborate - assuming he had been planning on it - the compartment opened again. "Hi." It was the youngest of the redheaded family that Hermione had seen arrive. "Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

Hermione thought she heard another hiss from Silverscales, who was now hiding in one of Harry's sleeves, and Harry gave a quiet chuckle at whatever he had said. Determined to be friendly to everyone, Hermione said, "Of course." she motioned to the seat next to Neville. The new arrival looked from the round-faced boy to the toad he was holding firmly and sat down, seeming a little uncomfortable.

"I'm Hermione Granger. These are Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom." She introduced quickly. She somehow doubted that he'd heard Neville's name though, or really, heard _anything_ other than 'Harry Potter.' He, like Neville had before, was now staring at Harry. Seeing Harry's obvious discomfort under this scrutiny, Hermione spoke again. "And, you are...?"

"Huh?" he looked back at her. "Oh - I'm Ron Weasley." He seemed to realize he'd been staring and did his best not to start again. Instead, his eyes wandered around the compartment idly and the four eleven-year-olds spent a few minutes in restless silence.

"So," Hermione cast around for a new topic. "I saw you arrive - you have...what, three older brothers?' she asked Ron.

"Five," Ron corrected. "Two have left Hogwarts."

"Are all you family wizards?" Harry asked, and at a nod from Ron, he added. "You must know plenty of magic already then." Ron only shrugged. "Hermione knows tons - but it's all from the school books. We haven't really seen much performed other than in Diagon Alley."

Neville's eyes widened. "You _read_ the school books?"

"Of course!" It had never occurred to her to leave the books unopened all summer. "I have them all down by heart and I've read a number of others - history and so on - I just hope it will be enough..." She trailed off anxiously. Both Neville and Ron were staring at her now, mouths open. Apparently, someone interested in learning was even more fascinating than someone who'd survived an evil curse.

Harry, used to Hermione's reading habits, grinned at their shock. "We _don't_ have to know everything already, right?" he asked them. "That's just Hermione, over-achieving as usual."

_I hardly know _everything_. _Hermione thought, but she gave Harry a small smile.

"Right..." Ron caught himself staring at Harry again. Glancing down, he caught a glimpse of Silverscales. "What is _that_?" he cried, jumping to his feet.

"This?" Harry let Silverscales wrap around his hand. "This is Silverscales, my familiar." He repeated what Hermione had told Neville earlier.

"Oh." Ron hesitated, then said. "You know, now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure Fred and George - my brothers - said they'd save me a seat up front." He nodded to the others and hurriedly left the compartment.

Hermione, Harry, and Neville stared in the direction Ron had disappeared for a few seconds. Then they looked at each other, eyebrows raised. "That was interesting." Hermione finally spoke. "I wonder why he said everywhere else was full then?"

"He probably really _did_ forget." Harry shrugged. "Maybe – having so many brothers – he gets tired of being with them all the time."

Hermione nodded, but said. "I wouldn't know. I'm an only child."

"Yeah, me, too." Neville and Harry replied together.

"Harry," Hermione asked. "What did Silverscales say when Ron came in?"

Harry grinned. "He said Ron shouldn't have gotten here so late. Then there would've been plenty of seats to choose from. I don't think he liked Ron very much."

"Well, I don't think Ron liked Silverscales much, either." Neville pointed out.

"Do _you_? Like Silverscales, I mean." Harry asked.

Neville hesitated. "Oh, I don't mind, not as long as he doesn't eat Trevor. So, can you actually..._talk_ to him? You know, like Parseltongue."

Harry glanced at Hermione, who shrugged. "Yeah." he said. "Silverscales says it isn't inborn, though, which is really weird, apparently."

Nodding, Neville answered. "Like I said, _I_ don't care. But I'd kept the fact that you can talk to snakes to yourself. It's considered one of the Dark Arts." Silverscales hissed angrily at this. "I'm not saying it actually _is_ a Dark Art!" Neville continued quickly, correctly interpreting the hiss. "Just that people think it is – because of Salazar Slytherin. That was what he was famous for, and it's rumored that You-Know-Who could speak it as well."

At this point, the train started moving and quickly took them out of the station as the three of them watched out the window. A few minutes later, Hermione said to Neville. "You've mentioned your Uncle and that you're an only child. Who else is in your family?"`

"Well," Neville began. "I grew up with my Gran. She's kind of...eccentric...but she's nice too. Then there's Great Uncle Alfie, who I mentioned before, and Great Aunt Enid -"

"What about your parents?" Hermione asked, before realizing if he hadn't already said something about them, it was probably a tender topic.

Neville mumbled something unintelligible and Hermione quickly apologized, turning slightly pink. Harry came to her rescue by changing the subject. "What _is_ a...a squib? You never said."

Neville answered, apparently all too ready to talk about absolutely anything other than his own parents. "A squib's someone with magical parents who can't actually use magic. They're really rare and usually considered a disgrace to their family."

Harry frowned. "That doesn't sound right – not if magic is something you're either born able to do or not..." Hermione nodded, sadly. She'd come across all too many mentions of 'Pureblood superiority' in her reading.

"That reminds me," She said suddenly. "I meant to tell you earlier, but kept forgetting. You know Mrs. Figg? The cat lady?" Harry nodded. "She's one. A squib, I mean. I talked to her while you were out of town and she said – well, let slip more like – she told me that Dumbledore had _told_ her to not make your visits to her very interesting. _Albus Dumbledore_, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, told her that! It doesn't make any sense to me."

After taking a few seconds to process what she'd told him (Hermione spoke fast when she was excited – this she knew, but couldn't help it) Harry asked, "Why?"

"She wouldn't tell me."

"That's weird." Harry murmured. Then he added, louder. "Hagrid mentioned Dumbledore – I'm trying to remember what all he said. Dumbledore sent him to make sure I got to actually read the letter, er...he got really upset when Uncle Vernon called Dumbledore a 'crackpot old fool'...there was something else. What was it?" He was silent for a minute, trying to remember. Hermione glanced at Neville, who raised his eyebrows at her. "Oh, right! He said Dumbledore was the one who told him to take me to the Dursleys in the first place!"

"Now that's _really_ interesting. Why in the world would he send you to live with people like that? He must've known, surely..." Hermione said, trailing off. "What about you, Neville? What do you know about Dumbledore?"

"Oh, not much." Neville said quickly. "Just that he's Headmaster at Hogwarts, like you said. Wait, I've got a Chocolate Frog card of him – let me see if I can find it." He began rummaging around in his trunk and Harry and Hermione exchanged confused looks.

"What's a Chocolate Frog card?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"No idea. I don't think it's the sort of thing that's mentioned in _Hogwarts, A History_." she replied.

Neville took his head out of his trunk and returned to his seat, holding a rather large handful of pentagonal cards. "It's here somewhere..." he muttered and began shuffling through them. "Here we go: 'Albus Dumbledore – Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts.' Neville began, reading the card aloud. "'Considered by many to be the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling.'"

Hermione, who had been nodding through most of the card, snorted at the last. "He enjoys _bowling_? Not that there's anything wrong with bowling, I'm just surprised." She added. "I didn't know about the alchemy either. Was it successful?" Neville blinked – evidently, he had no idea.

"I think Gran said he was the only person You-Know-Who -" he shot a quick look at Harry's forehead before continuing. "You-Know-Who was scared of."

"Impressive..." Hermione said, impressed.

"Well sure, that's impressive," Harry added, "But none of this explains why he made my childhood as bad as possible."

"I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose." Hermione bit her lip. Telling Mrs. Figg that Harry's visits to her couldn't be enjoyable didn't sound much like an accident. "Or at least, that he had a good reason. He _had_ to have had a good reason, right?" She didn't feel nearly as sure as she hoped she sounded.

Before either of the others had a chance to answer, the compartment door opened. "Anything off the cart, dears?" asked a woman who was pushing a cart that was filled with food - only then did Hermione realize it was after noon. The three got up, interested. Hermione, for one, wanted to know what sort of snacks were served in the wizarding world.

"Wow, what is this stuff?" Harry asked as they began looking through the candy she showed them. He picked up what looked like a small basket made of chocolate. It was filled with a thick, greenish liquid.

Neville gave him an incredulous look. "That would be a Cauldron Cake. Haven't you ever tried one?"

"No, I mean..." Harry trailed off. He gestured at the whole cart, but Neville still seemed confused.

Hermione grinned at both of them, then said to the witch, "May we please have some of everything?"

Back in the compartment, Harry and Hermione started on the candy with enthusiasm, insisting that Neville tell them what everything was. When Harry realized that Neville still didn't understand, he explained. "I've lived with Muggles my whole life Neville. I've never tried wizarding candy and neither has Hermione."

"And believe you me, my parents would have a fit if they saw me eating all this stuff." Hermione laughed. "They're dentists." She added to Neville, picking up what he called a Pumpkin Pasty. "Snacks like these are a dentist's worst nightmare." She took a bite.

Then the compartment door slid open once more.

"Is is true?" The boy who stood in front of the three who entered had white-blond hair and very pale skin to match. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter is in this compartment." He turned to Harry. "So it's you, is it?"

"Yes. It's me." Harry answered simply.

"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," he added, introducing his friends. Or at least, he was introducing the boys behind him. Hermione thought they looked more like bodyguards than friends. And unless the wizarding world used different names than the Muggle one, he'd just called them by their last names only. What sort of friend did that? "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione said suddenly, a little tired of being ignored – Malfoy's gaze hadn't left Harry since he'd entered the compartment. "And this is Neville Longbottom."

"Longbottom? Not the grandson of that daft old woman who thinks so much of herself?" Neville opened his mouth – whether in anger or because he wanted to retaliate, Malfoy didn't seem to care, already turning away from him and going on. "And Granger? I've never heard of you." He made it clear by the tone that anyone he had never heard of was obviously not worth much.

However, Hermione got the idea that – whoever she'd been, whatever name she'd given – Malfoy would still have found something to insult about it. She let out a short laugh. "'I've never heard of you?'" She repeated, disbelievingly. "If that's _really_ the best you can come up with..." She shook her head in mock disappointment, fighting back more laughter. Laughing was, she knew, one of the best ways to deal with bullies – and this boy was one, she could all ready tell.

After visibly trying and failing to think of a retort, Malfoy turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand, an arrogant sort of confidence assuming that Harry would accept it. Harry looked at it, then shook his head. "I think I can tell the wrong sort myself, thanks."

Malfoy didn't drop his hand, but he looked a little flushed as he answered. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll -" What would happen to Harry, they never found out. A flash of silver leapt from Harry's sleeve to Malfoy's still outstretched hand. He let out a yell and tumbled backward into Crabbe and Goyle.

"Silverscales, no!" Harry yelled, jumping up. He hissed something – probably repeating what he'd said in Parseltongue. The silver flashed back to him and Hermione thought she caught sight Silverscales' tail disappearing back up his sleeve.

"What was that?" Malfoy hurriedly began straightening his robes. Hermione was glad she couldn't see any blood – if Silverscales had bit him, he might have complained about it. "What was it, Potter?" He repeated angrily.

"Nothing – just something I've got up my sleeve." Harry answered coolly. "Get out of the compartment, Malfoy."

For a long moment, Hermione thought Malfoy was going to stay, despite his encounter with Silverscales. Then he shook his head and turned away, muttering "Come on," to Crabbe and Goyle.

"We'll have to keep an eye on that one." Hermione said firmly. "He's worse than Dudley, I think – I put up with years of bullying from Dudley's gang and I'm not taking any more."

Harry nodded. Then he sighed, looking down at Silverscales who had poked his head back out of the sleeve. "But Silverscales..." He went back to hissing. This apparently started an argument that last several minutes. "Hang on!" Harry said suddenly. "You can understand English?" A few more hisses from Silverscales. "Well, that's interesting."

"What's interesting? What did he say?" Hermione burst out.

"Silverscales can understand English – if he concentrates anyway. That's why he got so mad when Malfoy said I needed to be polite. According to him, that's one of my best qualities."

"Well, that's true." Hermione conceded, smiling. "Still, he shouldn't have done that. He could've gotten you in trouble."

"That's what I told him. But he didn't mark Malfoy at all, just scared him a bit, so... no harm done, I guess."

"I guess." Hermione paused. "Do you know him? This Draco Malfoy?"

"I met him in Diagon Alley, yeah," Harry began explaining about the encounter he'd had with Malfoy while they bought robes.

"I think I've heard of him," Neville said when he finished. "His family – along with a lot of the other old families – they're really into the Pureblood stuff. That's what he meant when he said some families are better than others. My family doesn't care about that so much; they wouldn't have liked having a squib in the family no, but if say a _Malfoy_ had been a squib? They'd probably disown him."

"But why didn't he approve of my family? He didn't even know who I was."

Neville shrugged. "Maybe not, but he didn't recognize your name. That alone told him it's not an old Pureblood family – he probably guessed that you were at least half-blood, maybe even a Muggleborn. The old families like that don't like Muggleborns at all."

The three fell silent for awhile. Then, just as it started to get dark, Hermione suddenly sat up and said. "We'd better change! I think the train's starting to slow down."

They quickly put on their new robes and watched eagerly out the window for their first glimpse of Hogwarts.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 9**

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Hermione began bouncing in her seat as these words echoed through the train. "We're almost there!" she cried, beaming.

"Yeah..." Harry smiled back at her.

Neville looked at her curiously. "You really like school, don't you?" He asked.

Laughing, Hermione answered, "Well, yes, but this isn't just _any_ school! It's a school of _magic_!" She remembered that Neville had grown up seeing magic performed every day – maybe the thought of learning to do it wasn't as exciting to him.

The train began to slow and soon stopped completely. As they got off – not without plenty of shoving from the other students – Hermione heard a voice over the clamor of the crowd. "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

They made their way toward it, Harry telling Hermione, "That's Hagrid – the one who gave me my letter!" She just nodded, not wanting to have to shout in order to be heard.

"All righ' there, Harry!" Hagrid called as they came into his view. "C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years?" Ron Weasley appeared next to her and the rest of the eleven-year-olds pushed their way out of the crowd. "Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" said Hagrid, and proceeded to lead them all down a steep path.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid continued. "Jus' round this bend here."

Hermione gasped and grabbed Harry's arm as the castle she'd read so much about came into view. "Wow..." she whispered, though she didn't think he heard her over the exclamations of the other first years. When she was able to tear her eyes off the castle long enough to glance at him, she saw her own awe mirrored on his face.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing down at a lake Hermione had not even noticed, as she'd been staring at the castle beyond it. Eagerly, she got into the front of one of the boats and Harry sat next to her. Neville took one of the seats behind them, followed by Ron.

Hagrid, in a boat by himself, shouted, "Everyone in? Right then – FORWARD!"

The boats glided silently across the lake. Hermione was still staring at the castle, and didn't notice anything else until they went into a tunnel. Soon after that, they reached a harbor and followed Hagrid up a passageway into the night air. The castle now loomed above them.

The large, oak front door opened as they approached, revealing none other than Professor McGonagall, who had originally introduced Hermione to the world of magic. Had that really only been a month earlier? Hermione smiled at the Deputy Headmistress, but the Professor was talking to Hagrid and didn't notice her.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Professor McGonagall led them into a small chamber off the Entrance Hall and Hermione could hear voices coming from the next room. Presumably, that was where the rest of the students were waiting. She grinned excitedly at Harry, who looked a little nervous.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses." As the Professor began describing the Houses, Hermione couldn't help nodding at every other word. She'd read about much of it in _Hogwarts, A History, _but she couldn't remember whether she'd ever learned how the students were Sorted. She listened carefully, hoping Professor McGonagall would explain.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." Professor McGonagall finished her speech and left the room.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Harry asked Hermione nervously.

"I'm trying to remember, but I don't think it said anywhere. Some sort of test, maybe?" She glanced at Neville questioningly.

"Gran said it's supposed to be a surprise. She said that _she_ was never told what to expect, so why should I? It's nothing dangerous, though. And it can't be very difficult, if everyone is expected to do it right off the bat..." He trailed off, sounding even more anxious than Harry had.

Hermione wondered whether they would have to use magic. If so, she and Harry would probably be all right – if they could do some without wands, surely it would be even easier with? – but she remembered that Neville hadn't done much in the way of accidental magic and he hadn't tried to control it either, so she decided not to mention that.

"The students are sorted into the different Houses based on whether they have the characteristics of the Founders. Don't you remember Harry? It said, in _Hogwarts, A History._" Harry only shook his head – she had to assume that he'd forgotten that particular detail. Hermione began murmuring everything she could remember about these characteristics. She meant it to be calming for the boys, but they only seemed to be getting more nervous.

Personally, she was only eager to see which House she would be in. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin … bravery, intelligence, loyalty, ambition. Those were the main ones. As she listed the traits, Hermione tried to decide which fit her best, but couldn't.

Someone behind her screamed and Harry jumped, looking around. Hermione's eyes widened as she saw a number of pearly white figures floating through one of the walls. It was one thing to read about ghosts, and know they existed, but to actually see them like this ...

As the ghosts passed overheard, she heard one of them tell a second, "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves?" said the other ghost, who was dressed as if he were from the sixteenth century – and, Hermione mused, probably was. "He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?" he had noticed the students below him.

"New students!" cried the first when no one answered. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" He smiled at them as a few nodded. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know."

Professor McGonagall returned. "Move along now," she told the ghosts sharply. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." The ghosts left – Hermione supposed that tone of voice was one that most _anyone_ would obey. "Now," she said as she turned back to the first years, "form a line and follow me."

Hermione grinned encouragingly at Harry and Neville as she got into line between them and they were all led into the Great Hall.

The Great Hall was the most magnificent place Hermione had ever seen. It was lit by candles that were _floating_ in mid-air and the plates that were set on the four long tables – already full of older students – the dishes were made of gold. _Wasn't gold one of the Gryffindor colors_...? Hermione wondered. She remember the scarlet train engine, how it too had reflected one of Gryffindor's House colors. Putting this out of her mind, Hermione glanced up.

"Look! The ceiling is bewitched to look like the sky outside!" Hermione hissed in Harry's ear. "Just like it said in _Hogwarts, A History_!" He nodded as they reached the front of the room where the other teachers were sitting at a fifth table.

McGonagall brought in a stool and an extremely frayed and patched old hat. It was pointed, like wizard's hats were in books, but Hermione couldn't really imagine anyone _wearing_ something so ancient for any amount of time. Curious, she watched as the hat began to move.

A rip in the brim opened and it started to sing. It told them about the different House's qualities, repeating a lot of what she'd told Harry and Neville only minutes before, if in poetry rather than prose. When finished, it bowed to the students and was still once more. Hermione felt Harry relax a little as everyone cheered. "That's not too bad. Wish we could do it in private though..." he murmured to her.

Professor McGonagall pulled out a roll of parchment, "When I call your name, you will put on the Hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

As the first years were sorted, Hermione thought about the Sorting Hat's song. _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart_. It didn't sound too bad, and she found it unlikely there would be bullies there, if they were supposed to be chivalrous. She switched to thinking about Slytherin. _Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends. _ Hermione pursed her lips slightly. Ambition was one thing, but they'd do _anything_? She decided Slytherin wasn't for her.

The descriptions for Hufflepuff sounded nice – just and loyal, patient and true – if a little boring. She noted, when Hannah was sent there, that the Hufflepuff table had far more students that the other three. More, in fact, than the other three put together. She tried not to be judgmental, but she wondered if Hufflepuff was where the Hat put students that it didn't think belonged in one of the other Houses. Not everyone fit into the one of the other categories – most people didn't.

But Ravenclaw – _If you've a ready mind, where those of wit and learning will always find there kind_.

Now that sounded interesting. School had always been easy for her and she hoped, coming into a completely new world where magic was possible, that it would be more challenging. If she were in a House that was supposed to be for people with intellect, they could help steer her to more interesting subjects and books and maybe -

Hermione's train of thought crashed as Professor McGonagall called her name. She flashed another grin at Harry, then eagerly hurried – to be honest, she nearly skipped - to the Hat.

"Excited, are we?" a small voice murmured in her ear. She hadn't expected that. She remembered another line from the song – _there's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see. _Presumably, then, it could read her mind. _Yes, I am!_ She thought.

"Yes, so I see. You're very brave, and intensely loyal. But intelligent too, and curious enough to work magic before school, even from a non-magic background … Strong qualities for three of the Houses … yes … Do you have a preference?"

She hadn't expected that either, but she didn't hesitate. _Ravenclaw, if you don't mind._

"Very well. You'd know better than anyone else, so – RAVENCLAW!"

Ravenclaw House cheered and Hermione smiled as she went to join them. Sitting next to a few of the first years that had already been Sorted, she turned back to watch the others.

When Neville was called a few minutes later, Hermione winced as he tripped on his way to the stool. She glared at the people around her who had laughed.

Neville sat on the stool nearly five minutes before the Hat finally decided, "GRYFFINDOR!" The cheers died into laughter again when Neville forgot to take off the Hat on his way to sit down. Hermione glared again, but no one noticed.

The Sorting continued. Draco Malfoy, she noticed, was sent to Slytherin before the Hat had completely settled on his head. A few students later, a pair of twins were sorted, the first to Ravenclaw and the second to Gryffindor.

"Potter, Harry!"

Until the moment his name was called, Hermione had actually forgotten that Harry would be known to the rest of the school. Then she heard the whispers break out all around her – "_Potter, _did she say? _The_ Harry Potter?" – and remembered. Being friends with someone famous was going to take getting used to.

Hermione watched anxiously as Professor McGonagall put the Hat on his head. He sat on the stool about as long as Hermione had, then the Hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

Cheering with the rest, Hermione waved him over to the seat next to hers. She couldn't help but notice that he got the loudest cheer yet. Looking relieved, he reached the table and sat in the proffered place. The other Ravenclaws immediately converged on him, wanting to know if he really was _the_ Harry Potter, but they were shushed by McGonagall, who was calling 'Thomas, Dean' to be Sorted.

Dean Thomas and Ron Weasley both became Gryffindors, while Lisa Turpin joined Harry and Hermione at the Ravenclaw table and Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin. Then McGonagall rolled up the parchment and took the Sorting Hat away.

Before the Ravenclaws could start questioning Harry again, Albus Dumbledore – whom Hermione recognized from Neville's Chocolate Frog card – stood up, smiling at the students.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat down. Hermione glanced at Harry, slightly confused, but they both clapped with the rest of the school.

"Is he – a bit mad?" Harry asked her uncertainly.

"How would I know? Seems like it though..." She trailed off as the platters in front of her filled with food. "Wow."

As the Ravenclaws started serving themselves, one of the twins Hermione had seen Sorted earlier asked, "Are you really Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

She looked impressed. "I'm Padma – Padma Patil." She reached across the table to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you," she said. Her wide smile showed very white teeth.

Harry nodded uncomfortably as he accepted the handshake. "You, too. This is Hermione Granger." Hermione grinned, knowing that Harry was trying to get attention off of himself. She didn't blame him at all. Unfortunately, even as Padma turned away, half a dozen other Ravenclaws – not all of them first years – bombarded him with questions.

And not all of them were as simple as 'Are you really Harry Potter?' Hermione started feeling more and more sorry for her friend as a third year asked suddenly, "Do you remember what You-Know-Who looked like?" The rest of the questioners immediately began clamoring for an answer – they weren't satisfied with 'No, I don't remember anything.'

After several futile attempts, both Harry and Hermione gave up trying to change the subject. She gave her friend a sympathetic smile – though she wasn't sure he saw it – and ate her dinner mostly in silence, while he dealt with the inquisitive Ravenclaws' questions as best he could.

Finally, the feast was over and the last of the desserts faded from the serving platters. Dumbledore stood again, cleared his throat and said, "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Hermione exchanged an incredulous look with Harry. "Does that mean we're allowed in if we're suicidal?" Harry murmured, chuckling.

"I don't know. He sounds serious," Hermione muttered back.

"And now," Dumbledore said, silencing the whispers that had sprung up all over the Hall, "Bedtime. Off you trot!"

**A/N: A lot of the dialogue in this was taken directly from the book. This is not mine, and neither is the rest of Harry Potter.**

**Thanks to my beta, jheaton!**

**And thanks to everyone who voted on the poll! I hadn't really thought anyone would vote for Slytherin - I'd never really considered putting them there, but I put it up just in case. **

**Please review!**

**Update 9/13/11:**

**I have decided to really get to work on the plot for this story. Hopefully I'll have a loose idea of what's going to happen in this story by the time I next update - which probably won't be for awhile.**

**In the mean time, there are several stories that I encourage you to read. One is my own****, called A True Seer. It's about the life of Sybill Trelawney, assuming that she was a real Seer – not just for her two '_real'_ predictions, but in general. If you think this sounds interesting, please read it. (I've already posted the prologue and the first chapter)**

**And the story 'Harry Potter and the Fictional Universe' by nobodez – read it! Review it! It's one of the most creative Harry Potter stories I've read. It's about someone from the present world who's read the books (but they're fiction) becoming the mind of Harry Potter. It's really good.**

**Also, I encourage you all to read the story 'Little Lestrange' by Voldemort13 – it's about the daughter of Bellatrix and what happens when she's Sorted into Gryffindor.**

**Thank you to all readers once again!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Chapter 10**

Hermione opened her eyes after her first night at Hogwarts and was disoriented for a few seconds. Then she remembered where she was and smiled. It was still pretty early, but she was too excited to go back to sleep. Instead, she got out of bed and dressed quietly, careful not to disturb her dorm mates.

Once dressed she made her way down to the common room, gaping at its sheer magnificence now that she was alone. Not that she hadn't been astonished by the rich, midnight blue wall hangings and bronze gilt windows the night before, when she and Harry had first arrived with the other first years. But it was harder to appreciate the beautiful carpet – sprinkled with stars – when surrounded by other kids, and the windows had been dark, hiding a glorious view of the mountains.

There were three exits from the common room. One left the Ravenclaw tower completely, one led to the dormitories. The third, however … Hermione grinned as she turned toward it. According to Penelope Clearwater, the prefect, that door led to the library. Not just any library, either. It was the Ravenclaws' secret library, containing books that were – supposedly, at least – written by Rowena Ravenclaw herself.

As soon as Penelope had mentioned it, Hermione had known she chose the right House.

Timidly, as always when faced with a large amount of new books, Hermione entered the room. Excitement mounting, she started to peruse the shelves, running her fingers over the rows of books. As far as she could tell, the subjects varied widely and there seemed to be no evident reason to their order, but she found it unlikely that there was no organization whatsoever.

"I wondered if it would be you."

Hermione jumped and turned around. Then she nearly jumped again. _I'll have to get used to ghosts eventually_. She told herself firmly. The speaker was the ghost of a pretty, young women with long, flowing hair, but Hermione thought there was something distant in her eyes. Something sorrowful. "You wondered if … _what _would be me?"

"Every year there is at least one new student who is drawn to the room early on their first morning," The woman replied. "I saw you, in the common room last night, and wondered if it would be you this year. And it was." She added grandly.

"Oh," Hermione was a little confused. "How did you know?"

"Hmm … just something about you." The woman said vaguely. "What's your name?"

"Hermione Granger. Yours?"

The ghost gave her a very small, but very cold smile. "I am known as the Grey Lady." She answered quietly.

The Grey Lady didn't seem to want to talk anymore, but Hermione's curiosity got the better of her. "Is it true that these books were written by Rowena Ravenclaw?"

"Some, perhaps," Was the only response. Then the ghost appeared to lose interest in her and glided away to another section of the library.

Hermione returned to looking through the books. Only a few minutes later, the door to the library opened and Harry entered. "Good morning. I thought I probably find you here." He said, grinning at her. "It _is_ a library, after all."

"Hi, Harry. I had no idea this place was here!" She said happily. "I mean, I know it is a 'secret' library, and wouldn't be much of a secret if it were described in _Hogwarts, A History_ or something, but … " Hermione trailed off. "I wonder if the other teachers, at least, know about it."

"No," The Grey Lady said. "Only Ravenclaws – and as Ravenclaws, you are expected to tell no one else." She had settled herself at a desk in the corner and appeared to be reading a ghost book. She had not looked up to answer the question, nor did she give any indication that she was going to speak again.

"Who is that?" Harry mouthed.

Hermione motioned toward the door and they left the library. "The Grey Lady," She said, answering his question. "The ghost of Ravenclaw House – _Hogwarts_, _A History_ did mention her a few times – nothing about her, just that each of the Houses had a ghost and it gave their names. I don't remember the others."

Harry gasped theatrically. "_Hermione Granger_ doesn't remember something?" He said with mock horror. "I think the world is ending."

Laughing with him, Hermione said, "Let's go eat breakfast." However, as they left the Tower, Hermione started trying to think of the ghosts' names frantically. "The Bloody Baron." She said almost immediately. "The Slytherin ghost – that was the part I read most, trying to find out more about Parseltongue. I think the Fat Friar was - " She broke off as they reached the end of the spiral staircase outside Ravenclaw Tower. "Do you remember the way to the Great Hall?"

"Well …"

"I'll take that as a no." Hermione took the lead, attempting to retrace their steps from the night before. Normally it wouldn't be a problem, because normally, she'd be able to see familiar things and remember where they were. Unfortunately, Hogwarts wasn't that simple – the staircases moved, the pictures moved, the _suits of armor_ moved. "There has _got_ to be a map of this place." She cried in frustration the second time they got lost. "Surely they can't expect first years to just know their way around!"

"Ask - "

"- and you -"

"- shall receive."

Two identical twins wearing two identical grins appeared in front of them, seemingly out of the walls. They were about thirteen and had red hair – in fact, when Hermione looked closer, she realized they looked a lot like Ron Weasley and decided they must've been part of the family she'd seen at the train station. The twins looked at them expectantly. "Er … " Harry said, glancing nervously at Hermione. "Do you know how to get to the Great Hall?"

"Fred, do we know how to get the Great Hall?" One twin asked the other.

"That we do, George." The other replied. Together, they told Harry and Hermione, "Follow us, firsties."

As the twins led them through the confusing halls of Hogwarts, they introduced themselves. "Fred and George Weasley. You're Harry Potter, of course. What about you?" One of the twins – she couldn't tell which – asked Hermione.

"Hermione Granger." She answered.

With the twins' help, they arrived at their destination in minutes. "Thanks!" said Harry, as they entered the Great Hall.

"Anytime!" The twins chorused.

They left for the Gryffindor table, while Harry and Hermione made their way the the Ravenclaw. Despite the early visit to the Ravenclaw library, it was still early enough that there were only a few students already there. The prefect, Penelope Clearwater, was among them.

"Just as a warning," she said as they sat down. "Don't trust the Weasley twins."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

Penelope smiled. "They're notorious. Don't get me wrong, they aren't mean just … mischievous. You might call them pranksters."

"They helped us find the Great Hall this morning." Hermione said, confused.

Penelope nodded. "Yes, but next time. Next time they might do something completely different. Their pranks are usually harmless and all in good fun - " She sniffed, as though she didn't think pranks could _possibly_ be all in good fun " - but all the same, it's best to watch yourselves around them. And be glad you're not in Gryffindor - they lose point _all_ the time."

Harry and Hermione nodded. "So, how do you suggest avoiding getting lost?" Harry asked.

"Well, of course, _I'm_ always willing to help," said Penelope. "But if I'm not around, any of the other prefects and most of the ghosts will point you in the right direction. And the teachers, of course. Peeves though, you know, the poltergeist? Avoid him at all cost." She added with a grimace. Hermione nodded. Penelope had mentioned Peeves on the way to the Ravenclaw Tower from dinner the night before. They hadn't actually met this poltergeist, and she wasn't looking forward to it. "Don't be too worried if you do get lost though." The prefect continued. "You'll get used to the castle soon enough and the teachers are usually pretty lenient for the first week or so. Not Snape though – be sure to leave plenty early to get to Potions."

Hermione noticed that more and more students were trickling into the Great Hall and looked to the Gryffindor table. "Look, Harry!" She said suddenly. "There's Neville! You finished?" She asked and Harry nodded. "Me too. Thanks, Penelope." The two of them got up and joined Neville.

"This castle is a nightmare." He informed them as they sat down across from him. "I left Gryffindor Tower an hour ago. I was worried I wouldn't have time for breakfast."

Hermione nodded sympathetically. "We got lost too, and needed help getting here."

Neville was about to say something else, but he was interrupted by Professor McGonagall giving him his schedule. "You should probably go back to your own table Miss Granger, Mr. Potter." She told them sternly. "You'll be needing to pick up your own schedules from Professor Flitwick."

"All right." Hermione stood. "Oh, Professor. Do Ravenclaws and Gryffindors share any classes?"

"Not first years, no." McGonagall answered, then continued down the table handing out schedules.

"Oh, well," Hermione sighed. "See you after classes then, Neville. Do you want to meet in the library?"

Neville nodded and they left again to pick up their own schedules.

**A/N: Do not think that the posting of this chapter means that I'll start updating on a regular basis again. It just means I had a chapter written and decided to post it. It's not beta'ed either, just carefully edited by me - but that's because my internet is only working sporadically right now and I want to post while I can. **

**Please review!**


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